. . . and then there was pickle.

As we approach Mother’s Day I cannot help but join the parade of bloggers everywhere by celebrating the women that have made all of our lives and children’s lives possible.

I had been fairly certain that it was a subject that I was going to avoid - as I have recently read several blogs that pretty much summed up anything I could hope to say. What changed that was my experience Thursday night.

After class got out I had the rare opportunity to do what we sometimes refer to as “ruining oneself.” The mom had the baby out on the town with her sister who was only in town until Saturday morning. They also had morning plans without me – which meant I could sleep off any damage uninterrupted.

I ventured out to Becky's - the true center of this tale - as well as the people that I have spent so much of my life with there. The bar is centered between three of the most significant locations in downtown Cleveland to my development as an adult. The university where I got my undergrad degree, the main theatrical center where I produced and acted in many shows, and it is also one block from the law school, which graduated my wife. I also managed a coffee shop, right out of school that was four blocks from the bar, worked as a limo driver out of the same complex, and for a short stint I even worked at Becky's directly.

Needless to say we have history. I have spent many a sobering morning watching the sun rise through the glass block windows facing 18th street, and the owner is one of the few people that I can truly call a friend - Tim. He was the first sponsor of the first show I ever produced, and without him I doubt that my career would have ever gotten off the ground.

The most bizarre aspect of Becky’s is that I know the history of that bar better than most anyone, and yet in all my 13 years of hanging out there– I never met Becky. The bar was purchased by Tim’s mother for his sister, the legendary Becky, in the mid-eighties - and she soon moved to North Carolina. The bar was then run for a short period by Tim’s older brother but was wisely shifted to the control of Tim in the early 90’s.

Thursday night, in one of the four times I actually walked in the door in the last two years, I was introduced to Becky. Becky was in town because their mother is in the Cleveland Clinic and not doing well. She had a heart attack, and is unfortunately untreatable until they clear up a major intestinal infection. The outlook is not currently positive.

As the night went on we all told stories of the woman who’s purchase had interwoven our lives, and really created the relationships that we all had.

I have only met Tim’s mom a couple of times, but she is the consummate bar owner. She was truly fascinated by people and wanted to know everything about you, and of course - could convince you to buy a round for complete strangers before one in the afternoon (which I did).

The night wore on, and as eight double Jack and Coke’s will do at two in the morning, we all started reminiscing about the women that shaped our lives, and I couldn’t help but gain amazing perspective on the value of a mother’s impact on not only her children directly, but all of the people that they effect through the way their values and acts effect everyone that they come into contact with.

I sat there hearing awesome stories of a woman I couldn’t recognize on the street, from her children who were facing losing her on Mother’s Day – and I was so moved in gratitude that she gave me the opportunity to have the relationships that I have gained and that place that was a home away from home for so many years.

One of the ways that Becky described her mother was that in their house – there was always an extra bed, and a place set at the table for someone that needed somewhere to stay. Through that nature – I know that her children helped to create a place that made me feel at home when I was facing the brutality of life in the city.

And as I drove home at 3:30 in the morning it clicked as to why I was so moved – because I knew that as an adult I grew up in her home too.

Pickle’s Papa